A poem by Milk-and-Pie
…
Just because they will bruise your neck with pearls of metaphors; and splash palettes of colours onto your chest with reckless waves and boundless twilight. They will smear ink onto your lips as you kiss them because that is how they leave hickeys. They are wildest in their 2 a.m. diary, and liveliest in book racks of novels; they have butterflies in every heartbeat and they breathe living poems. They leave trails in libraries and coffee shops like Hansel leaves crumbs in forest and they have undying lovers because every love story is ever living in their abyssal oceans of analogies and similes. They know every cliché like the sunset knows the moon rise, and every wound in their heart like blood in their veins. They are terrifying because they weave you in splinters of fires rolling down their cheeks. They are weird because they don’t smile much but sometimes you could catch their smiles in poems or tales. They are psychotic because they can cage you in prison bars of endless poems and they live in seas of words because drowning in healing letters are much better than surviving in blasting volcano reality.
They are the writers whom you should never fall in love with, because if you do, be prepared to love their blizzard tears and volcano outbursts, to kiss them when the sunlight touches the summer green leaves and when the moonlight kisses the ocean waves. Be prepared to see them break and cry and die in poems and stories. To pull the strings in their woven heart when it gets loose, to see the demons lurking in their chalked stained bones beneath millions of words, to calm the thunderstorms raging in their stomach, and know that they will always choose their book racks of novels over you but that’s fine because you can never compete with perfect parallel universes.
Be prepared to love them in matchless morning breaths and relentless howling nights, to get lost in their heart labyrinth, and collapse in their spider webbed eyes, be prepared to listen to how their lungs echoes your name, and how their vodka slip through cracks between their lips to whisper love onto your skin. And know that they fall in love with the thunder and storms in your bones, and they will never stop writing about you.
(G.L)
-Don’t Fall in Love With A Writer
http://milk-and-pie.deviantart.com/art/Don-t-Fall-In-Love-With-A-Writer-470426291
The Rose 